


red down a dead end

by akaeijis



Series: fools on the back road [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Mention of abuse, Secret Relationships, Underage Drinking, all u need to know is, inspired by country music, its more south set, kieth has a pickup truck and flannel and a drawl, kissing and makinh out yakno but nothig Explicit, klance, lance isnt from the south tho he moved later on in his life, not really tbh more like, not rly texas, relgious kinda lance bc im self indulgent, sklance (shouthern klance), southern! keith, texan! keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaeijis/pseuds/akaeijis
Summary: Keith’s elbow is perched on the open window, heat beating down on him and sweat dripping down his neck. ‘So soak it all up, let it sink in,’ plays softly in the background, in harmony to the traction of the wheels on the pavement.From the corner of his eyes, he watches Lance as they pass by the desert.(Or, Keith and Lance holding hands underneath library tables, kissing in corridors, with the south and a cross hanging over them.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> i was planning on writing other things but i wrote southern klance instead. inspired by me blasting taylor swift and texan keith memes  
> also while i was writing this i listened to /real/ country music for Research and guess who likes country music. but this is mostly inspired by Red by Taylor Swift which is my Jam and also reminds me of klance  
> this is titled yeehaw in my drafts 
> 
> big thanks to my wonderful friend [ jay ](https://twitter.com/spacities) who beta'd this and who i also brought to country music hell with me (heart emojis)

Keith drives his pickup truck to wherever, one hand on the steering wheel. It’s an old thing, paint chipping from an old job he did years ago. The dusty asphalt stretches miles ahead of them, the bare desert making him feel lonely and found all at once. His elbow is perched on the open window, heat beating down on him and sweat dripping down his neck.  _ ‘So soak it all up, let it sink in,’  _ plays softly in the background, in harmony to the traction of the wheels on the pavement. 

From the corner of his eyes, he watches Lance as they pass by the desert. 

“ ... Okay, so Joanne was like, ‘I don’t wanna deal with Grace’s emotional baggage,’ and I was like, ‘bitch, Grace had to deal with the mess that’s you,’ and I walked away.” 

Keith’s lips curled up into an easy smile, left foot tapping in cadence to the radio. “Bless Joanne’s heart.” 

Lance’s attention is fully on him now, tan skin bathing in the sun’s glow and fingers fidgeting by the cup holders. “Where to, Romeo?”

Keith hums and doesn’t answer. He’s not really sure where they’re going, but wherever he’s with Lance, he’s good.

(Maybe, one day, they can go somewhere with a beach like Lance always talks about.) 

 

-

 

When he reaches Lance, Keith intertwines their fingers and slides his palm in Lance’s like he has a million times before. Their footsteps echo down the boardwalk of the lake, away from the rest of the block party. The familiar sizzling of barbeque and a crowd dance square illuminating an area a few yards away. At night, it’s a bit chillier than the harsh day. Lance is dressed in cargos and a flimsy blue baseball tee, absolutely stunning under the moon’s spotlight. 

Then Lance gives a cheeky grin and says, “Did you get the goods?” 

Keith sighs, but holds a stolen bottle of whiskey up. “Yes, Lance.”

“Thanks, babe.” Lance giggles, then kisses Keith’s cheek. Keith feels heat crawling up his neck ; his affection for Lance is something he’ll never get used to. They walk a little more of the boardwalk before reaching the end of the deck. Keith places the bottle down and takes his boots off, placing them neatly on the side and starts to bunch his jeans up. When he’s done with that, Lance is already sitting down, kicking his feet by the water and creating ripples that slowly spread all over the lake. Keith sits right next to him so their thighs are touching and arms are knocking into each other.  

Keith takes the honor of popping the whiskey bottle and takes the first chug; it burns down his throat as Lance watches him swallow. He breathes a satisfied sigh and passes the bottle to Lance , who takes it without hesitation. Keith wipes his lips with the sleeves of his flannel and thinks that there’s something sentimental about sitting by the edge of the lake, drinking late in the night, away from prying eyes. 

All of Keith’s attention is on Lance, his hair tousled from the slight breeze and eyes contrasting with the color of his skin. They’re as bright as the stars in the galaxy and the color of the deep ocean, always pulling him in - tripping him so he feels like free falling. He’s a bit woozy, so he drapes his arm over Lance’s shoulders and pulls him in closer, because he can. 

He whispers a little prayer to God Almighty for giving this to him. 

 

-

 

Keith walks through the aisles of the library, eyes scanning across book titles on the third row of the E author section. He doesn’t read the titles, he’s not looking for anything in particular. The shelves are made out of the cheap kind of wood and the carpet is an ugly maroon. He’s so focused that his shoulder nudges into someone’s chest unexpectedly. Keith looks up. 

Lance wiggles his fingers in greeting and Keith smiles. He reaches to grab Lance’s right wrist that was holding a book and brings it down, now he’s pushing Lance behind the shelves. His lips ghost by Lance’s and his other hand finds Lance’s pulse, quicker than normal. The hand trails up to Lance’s rosary necklace, under his shirt. Keith glances at it sparingly and brings it around so it’s behind Lance, resting by the back of the nape of his neck. 

“No room for Jesus,” Keith breathes, eyes following lips to eyes and a flushed face. Lance lets out a shaky laugh while Keith’s thumb strokes those same lips. 

Keith kisses him, silent pecks and sloppy movements of lips. His arms circle around Lance’s neck, locking him, and feels Lance wrap around his waist. Lance’s tongue licks his lips, and Keith grants entrance. Keith kisses passionately, reckless, intense, burning. He tugs at Lance’s sleeve a little, trying to convey how much he needs this, him,  _ Lance _ . His hands are fleeting, exploring everything but touching nothing all at once. He feels Lance’s fingers travel to the back of Keith’s hair and Keith muffles his groan. 

 

-

 

“Sweet music to my ears,” Keith whispers, lazy as Lance scrambles into Keith’s truck, closing the door as quietly as possible. Lance ignores Keith’s comment and whispers a frantic, ‘go, go, go’ while making vague motions to the engine and the road ahead of them. Keith rolls his eyes, briefly peeking at the soft white curtain blowing by the open window. He turns the engine to drive and keeps the lights low and moves out of the driveway. It’s a dangerous time, the fluorescent clock reading 2:00 AM.

When they’re a safe distance away, Keith turns his lights back on and heads into an open dry field. Lance’s wearing soft pyjama pants and a loose shirt, wearing nothing on his feet except blue flip flops and polkadotted toes. 

“You look comfy.” 

“Says you, red board shorts.” Keith looks down and yup, Lance has caught him. He’s wearing a simple white shirt and shorts that could probably be mistaken for boxers. He turns the engine off but keeps the radio playing.

Keith looks up and Lance is pouting, “I hate your ponytail.” 

Keith smirks and tugs it tighter. Lance groans and crawls over to the back to get an armful of blankets and pillows. Keith takes some too, gets out the door, and pops the trunk open. He chucks the blankets in before pulling himself and Lance up. Lance star t s spreading the dark brown duvet and laying the pillows down the corners. They can hear the country station clearly, softly. They leave their sandals in the corner. 

After they’re done with assembling the truck bed, Lance sprawls onto the mismatched blankets and worn pillows. The sweet southern air is warm and when he looks down at Lance, his eyes sparkle. Keith sits down and drapes a soft blanket over both of them and leans on Lance’s shoulder. 

There are billions of twinkling swirls of black, blue, and white spread all over in directions. Despite the vastness of the universe, watching the night sky in the middle of nowhere - Keith feels more at home than ever before. 

Keith tears his eyes away and focuses on Lance, whose mouth is slightly agape and eyes wide in awe. Lance has always loved the stars. Keith brings his hand to brush over Lance’s hair and Lance turns over to him. His beautiful blue eyes as bright as the tide, irises connecting like the constellations. He feels Lance’s warm hands crawl to his neck and unties his hair tie, massaging the black locks. Lance’s gaze is firmly on in him, silent and serious and -

“Can I have a ride, cowboy?” 

Keith bursts laughing, echoing in the empty field. He feels himself bring his knees closer to his chest, clutching around his abdomen. His vision is a bit blurry but he can see Lance snickering, hands grasping one of the pillows on his left. It’s like he’s flying, he’s off the ground. He looks back to Lance grinning foolishly like on a high and feels the shadow of an aching jaw and stomach. 

“You’re stupid,” Keith mutters, playing with the sleeves of Lance’s shirt. 

“You know what would be even stupider?” Lance asks him, knees up with his feet pressed down. Keith raises an eyebrow and Lance just stands up. 

“Keith, watch this,” Lance tells him, looking back from the edge of the truck with a half-lidded gaze. Keith feels his pulse quicken a little, sensing all the affection from Lance’s eyes. Then Lance faces the boundless desert and infinite universe, cups around his mouth, and yells, “I LOVE KEITH KOGANE!”

Keith feels warmth crawl up from his collar and the tips of his ears. Not to be outdone, Keith scrambles up and yells,  “I LOVE LANCE SANCHEZ EVEN MORE!”

Now, Lance is laughing, clutching Keith’s shoulder so tight and head back in hysterics. In a few seconds, he remembers their drives on stretched out roads, pretending to run away from monsters like children. Sneaking kisses behind cameras and school hallways and over square white fences. Dancing to the strums of guitars. Skinny dipping in the lake when they were thirteen. There’s a warm air breathing in them, radio dancing with them. He’s an adrenaline junkie in the middle of a wasteland and Lance gives him a rush, constantly knocking the wind out of him, burning the backs of his hands, constantly making him feel like he’s diving head first into the air. 

(Keith’s completely heads over heels, irrevocably in love Lance Sanchez.)

 

-

 

Keith walks over to Lance’s locker, ready to walk to calculus together. He expects to see Lance’s vibrant eyes and white back and a secret smile that they only know. To brush hands that linger a bit longer than normal. He doesn’t expect for his heart to drop and Lance’s left arm in a sling. 

Keith lowers his voice and whispers, “Lance -” 

But Lance looks him dead in the eyes, blank like a steady pool of water instead of a powerful tide. There’s shadows of bruises peeking from his shirt. They’ve talked, briefly about if this would happen. Keith feels a cold rush in him, body still. The world slows down and the only constant is Lance. It’s like being awakened from the dream they’ve been breathing in for too long. Then the world comes to a full stop. 

Lance’s rosary is branded on the top of his shirt.

 

-

 

Keith leans on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He’s dumped his school bag right by his bed. The shades are pulled down, making it darker than usual except the little plastic glow in the dark stars that Lance put up. 

He remembers when they were laying down on this same bed, sweaty and out of breath. Lance’s heart beating, whispering in his ear as Keith ran his hands through the other’s brown hair.

Keith closes his eyes. He doesn’t blame Lance, but it’s painful. 

 

-

 

Keith is actually studying today, sitting in the corner of the library. People murmuring to partners. Dust dancing with the sun rays, fluttering downwards. But there’s a whirlwind inside Keith. Across the room, he can see Lance’s broad back hunched over, the sun creating a halo around him. The seat next to Lance is taken,  _ his  _ seat. They would be sitting together, feet laced, knees touching, hands clasped underneath the wooden table. 

In broad daylight, surrounded by people - Keith has never felt more alone. 

(He doesn’t see Lance glance back, for a fraction of a second.) 

 

-

 

He brings two beer bottles in between his fingers walks down the boardwalk. Keith doesn’t bother walking all the way to the end of the platform, but opts to sit where the turf meets the wooden pavement. He opens a bottle and leans on his forearms, listening to the faint bristling of trees. Maybe if he listens hard enough, he’ll hear obnoxious laughter, footsteps running frantically along the timber, water splashing, bubbles rushing to the top. Or skin being pushed on the ground, a mess of limbs, feet rippling the lake while lips breathe together. Or, maybe, he’ll just hear a soft voice singing to him, sitting on one of the tree branches. 

But all he hears are the crickets and all he sees is the reflection of the moon. Keith opens the other bottle because there’s no one to share it with. 

 

-

Lance’s favorite song plays on the radio as Keith drives for a few miles, no destination in his head. The scenery is all the same, for miles and miles and miles. It feels like he’s trapped and he can’t leave. But everytime he passes a sign saying the next town is up ahead, he feels the tension slowly fade away. He wants to leave.

But he keeps looking in the rearview, here’s one thing still anchoring him down. 

 

-

 

The streets glow a bit like silver as Keith drives back to their town. The lamp posts create little circles and illuminate a figure by the parking lot, wearing jeans and holding an umbrella. 

Keith knows it’s Lance. 

Keith slams the breaks, dangerous in such a slippery street. But it’s around midnight and there’s nothing else in his head except Lance is alone in the rain. He grips the steering wheel tighter, debating if he should go out, his heartbeat rushing like the first time flying. He’s sure Lance knows. Lance always said that he would recognize the chipped paint anywhere. Keith exhales a ragged breath and opens the door. Water splashes on his boots, the thunder and pour deafening. He jogs and he’s right in front of Lance. 

He peeks under the umbrella, sharing it with the taller boy. When he sees Lance’s eyes, he sees them sparkling and Keith feels his pulse quicken, surging with anger and embarrassment and - Lance does the unexpected, drops the umbrella, pulls Keith by the wrists, and kisses him. 

 

(“I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault.” 

“Do you wanna run away?” 

“Yeah.” 

“...” 

“...” 

“...” 

“Just not now, that would be pretty dumb.”)

**Author's Note:**

> 1 - lance moved when he was around 10 ishy from Cuba, so he's not as Southern as keith  
> 2 - lance /is/ religious but, not in the Ugly way so he doesn't agree with his father but like he would go to church every sunday and pray everyday  
> 3 - keith and lance don't Run Away because they're late teens, this is kinda set during their senior year and i Suddenly Regret not writing a football game scene :(  
> 4 - keith has lived in the South all his life just in foster homes; shiro was og gna be here but i couldnt find a way to fit him in so rip shiro hes probably up in a space academy  
> 5 - i did get into country music bc of this fic. maybe a mix ?? 
> 
> thank you all (y'all) for reading this !! there's gona be a part two for Sure, idk how much more i'll continue this AU but shrug emoji. but thank u so much for reading this !!
> 
> hmu on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/hakaeijis) or [ tumblr ](http://flowerlance.tumblr.com/)and talk to me abt this au or just lance bc i love him!!
> 
> EDIT 2/26: look at [ this piece of art ](https://twitter.com/spacities/status/835876544971223041) my friend jay made. im so emotional. ive never been so emotioanl in my life. im weeping


End file.
